Thoughts of the Great Jace's POV
by MissDavenport
Summary: Random scenes from Jace's point of view. Not in any order or anything, just a collection of things that would be interesting to see through Jace's eyes. A series of One-Shots basically. R
1. Jace at Magnus'  Imprisoned

_A one shot I wrote because I always wondered what must have been going through Jace's mind while he was held up at Magnus' and Clary was avoiding him as punishment to herself for what she'd caused. City of Ashes - Jace's point of vies: After Simon was born again and Maia was attacked. Please R&R. I love reviews so let me know if youl liked it. :D xxx_

**Declaimer: I, Miss Davenport, own nothing of The Mortal Instruments or the characters linked to it. It's all the fabulous Cassandra Claire! That means that I don't own Jace either. **

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Jace slumped back on his pillows. This was driving him crazy. He might have been able to endure Magnus and his annoying gay habits, his terrible taste in television and his naturally annoying personality, if he didn't have more on his mind.

Even though he's healed back to his earlier perfection (emphasis on the last word – he thought, yet he didn't have his heart in the internal joke) he still laid on the sofa in front of the television with blankets and pillows. He didn't have much else to do here in the "prison". Magnus had already told him off one too many times for tidying up and it had become so messy that it annoyed Jace to look around. So, he averted his eyes from the room and kept them tied to the television, except for the times he looked at his phone and the "no new event" message that had become an unfriendly reminder that Clary was avoiding him.

No, he mustn't think of her. She obviously wasn't thinking of him. She hadn't called him in days, even though he's called her…more times than he cared to remember. Never had he ever called a girl, they always called him. To call the same girl so many times was odd, but to be rejected so many times… Stop, he though. She's your sister. She's made that very clear. And anyway, she wasn't normal. Nothing about this was normal. Clary…She was like nothing he'd ever seen. No one had ever made him feel like she did. He wanted her next to him at all times. Even being close to her, even if that meant that a wall were between them, would be ok with him if it meant that he could hear her, smell her. Even listening to her breathing made him happy. That…was odd. Very odd. When he looked at her, his heart began to pound restlessly in his ears, his adrenaline level will go right up and happiness would flow thorough him in a content feeling that came with nothing but seeing her preferably smiling face. Nothing felt the same as when she smiled at him, especially if she didn't know she was looking. If he'd say something particularly funny, she's smile at him sometimes unconsciously and at the times she didn't know she was being watched, they were wonderful, a glance at Clary with none of her defences, not hiding anything of what she felt about him. Because he knew how she felt. She felt the same as he did. She loved him, hoped more than anything that they could change the situation and that she could be Simon's brother, not his. Her feelings toward the mundane were rather platonic in nature. This made him smile briefly. The times he's seen them holding hands, kissing hands and guessed by the familiarity they felt toward each other that they did a lot more in private, the times that made him want to kill, really kill, the feelings he got when he saw demons, they were not really true because Clary wanted to be like that with him, not Simon.

Ah. He was thinking of Clary. His heart hurt. Heartache. How melodramatic. What next? Emotastic poetry about the meaning of life and death? Unrequited love? Well…while he was at it.  
He though of Clary a few nights ago. The "confrontation" they'd had in his room. She was wet and dirty with leafs in her hair and mud joining the freckles on her nose and he's only found one word that suited her. Perfect. She'd looked so miserable with her petal mouth in an upside down irresistible pout. She'd blamed him, told him that she didn't want to be kissed by him. That single comment had hurt him so much. And then she'd taken away all the hurt and replaced it with hope. "I try not to look at you." She's said quietly. This had hurt him but he had to know why. "Why do you think" she'd almost shouted. I know what I think, he though sadly.

His mind trailed to the word she'd used for them. "Sickening". No, that was something he wouldn't think of. The pain in his chest increased at the single word. In stead he pictured her on his bed, curled around his t-shirt, holding it to her face, sleeping with the smell of him filling her. That was how he'd found her and he couldn't shake the feelings that coursed through him as he gazed down at her in wonder. He'd gone to the shower angry, thinking her words over and over again and trying to hate her for being so determined not to be with him despite feeling mutual. When he came out and saw her it was as though the anger had been washed off by the water along with the pond smell and dirt. He stared at Clary, close enough to see every single freckle on her nose. She looked so peaceful with her pouted lips and a little crease between her eyebrows. She looked tiny with her knees up to her chin like a small kitten. He reached down and pushed a long strand of curly red hair from her face and let his hand linger on her cheek for a moment, marvelling in the feel of her warm sleepy breath on his hand. Then what she'd said came back to him, and he jerked back and went to sit in the opposite the bed. He watched her, letting himself think of the beauty that was Clary and fighting the urge to go to her and curl around her protectively saving her from everything but himself, the one thing she'd shown to be scared of. Her love for him. They were as similar as they were different sometimes.

When she'd woken up, he'd been nasty, telling her that she'd been snoring and drooling. He would do it again though; he wanted to hurt her, like she was hurting him. Only after did he realize that she too was hurting as much as him.

Everything that had happened with Simon was an unpleasant blur. He remembered Clary's words "Don't you dare Jace, don't you dare." They'd sounded too menacing to be coming from the small red bundle on the floor but she'd said it. "Get away from Us" She'd screamed." What did she think of him? Yes, She felt for him as he did for her, but…Love was not always rational. Did she think he'd do that? Pain coursed through him. Right, enough reminding of that awful night. Quite enough.

He'd tried to call her many times but had no reply. Give up. He decided. Now. They'll have to see each other and he'll make her suffer. She was being selfish. She didn't know it, but she was. What she would call "doing the right thing" caused him grief. How is that the "right thing"? His anger towards her hadn't changed the fact that he desperately needed to know how she was. Luckily Magnus was wise enough to ask about Clary. Also, he put Luke on loudspeaker when he spoke to him letting him know and so Jace was able to hear first hand how Clary was doing.

"She's ok. Worn down and worrying but you know, who wouldn't in her situation?"

"It's very hard on her." Magnus amended.

"She's with her mother now, I'm on my way to join her, would you like me to pass on a message?"

Magnus looked at Jace. He grimaced in a '_what are you looking at me for?_' Look.

"Just tell her that W-I'm thinking of her." Said Magnus, rubbing his arm and scowling at Jace.

"Will do. And how's Jace?"

"Tip top, can't stop smiling the miserable bugger." Said Magnus.

Luke huffed, not sounding pleased at all. Jace was pleased at this.

The ringing of his phone brought him from his little trip down memory lane. He jumped for it and gazed down on the name of the incoming call. No. This can't be happening. Relief and pure joy filled him like a hot drink on a cold night. Clary was calling him. She wanted him. Had she wanted to call him? Had she been thinking of him? Ha, he laughed to himself, guess I don't hate her after all. Now I won't have to make her suffer.

"Clary-" he gasped down the phone, out of breath.

She said nothing; he could just barely hear her breathing on the other side. Earlier he's done anything just to be able to her any sound from her. He'd been wrong. He needed to hear her voice. Needed. "Clary, are you alright?"

Still she said nothing. "Clary, I thought you were avoiding me-"

"You were right, she is. It's Simon."

Jace felt as though his insides had been ripped out. Clary was avoiding him, it was confirmed.

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_OK, that was it. Don't see much point writing more because we get the initial pain and suffering and from then on he'd probably be all action etc. hope you liked it and as always, LET ME KNOW!_


	2. Takis

_Another! Enjoyed writing -again. This is from the end to City of Ashes - The part we didn't see in the Takis, where Jace told clary h wanted to be her brother from now on. Oh so sad. _

_As always people, please please review. I want to know what you think!_

**Declaimer - I don't own anything to do with The Mortal Instruments. Sadly.**

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Clary pushed the empty glass away from her and placed her small hands on the table, letting the sleeves of her jumper fall over them. Why did everything she did have to alert Jace to the fact that she was adorable? Everything. She couldn't even place her hands on a table without him having to fight with himself not to grab them ad hold them in his.

"I should get going then." She said in a rather clipped voice. Jace gulped. This was killing him. He can't let her leave like this. Believing the words he'd just thrown at her. But you have to, he told himself. _Have _to.

"Ok." was all he said. Was all he allowed himself to say as uncharacteristically soppy words formed in his head and threatened to raise to his lips. C'mon, he told himself. You're Jace Wayland!

But he wasn't. He was a Morgenstern, like his father and like his sister. He looked up at Clary who was pulling herself out of the chair. He said nothing.

Getting gracefully to his feet, he walked out from behind the table and until they were close enough to touch…if they'd reached out for each other.

Which, surprising Jace until he froze, Clary did.

She felt so warm in his arms as hers wrapped around his neck, he felt her beautiful sweet-smelling hair grazing his face. He smelt her, felt her and even though it was more than he ever thought he'd be able to do, it still wasn't enough. He wanted her to be stuck to him, tied to him, a part of him.

But of course, she was these things. He was tied to her, by blood. She was a part of him. A part of his family. His true family. But she was also a part of him in another way. A way that made him happier than ever before. But also a part of him that made him sure he didn't want to live anymore if living meant being Clary's brother. After all, the woman a man loved is always a part of him.

And then, she was gone. Taking the warmth of her body and the remaining warmth of his heart with her, she turned and disappeared through the door without another word. Jace slumped back in his chair and stared down at his black coffee, thinking of Clary - When wasn't this the case? – Was she hurt now? But she didn't feel as strongly as Jace had. She's loved for ever, since she was born, family friends have loved her and loved them back, no complicated relationships, no fake affection, no cruelty. So Jace, her feelings towards him, could not compete with his towards her. He was able to love someone else. He'd thought that was dead. Clary had awakened that in him. It was like he wasn't really awake until she came crashing through the door at pandemonium, and into his life.

"Re-fill?" Came a voice from behind Jace. His head snapped up. There stood the waitress. What's-her-name. Shit, he should remember this, he's been there and done that a few times, though those once-happy memories were now nothing, scenes from someone else's life, one without love, empty, one he wouldn't want to be in.

"I'm good, thanks. And don't say "I know", It's wearing on me by now." Hugh, seemed he still had a little of the old-Jace in him.

The girl let out a ridiculous high giggle, nothing to Clary's real and beautiful one, the one that was feminine and funny, in a real and beautiful way. This girl was as fake as her nails. "You all alone?" she asked, in a flirtatious voice. Jace turned towards her, angling himself so that he could lean back and drape his arm over the chair behind him, and flexed. Her breathing sped.

"Oh, poor Jace, all alone? Give me five minutes, and I'll cheer you up." She said. Jace began to smile, but found he didn't have the energy to make the effort it cost him to pretend. He slumped in the chair.

"You can't cheer me up." He said. He placed the money on the counter –no tip because the girl was who she was, not someone else – and strode away, through the door and towards home.

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_I didn't feel that this was my best. But I have more scenes that I'd find interesting to see from Jace's point of view so..._


	3. Chapter 3

Right, thank you all that have added my story to your alert subscription or to your favourite list and a special thanks for those of you who have reviewed. I LOVE to hear what you think :D

A BIG sorry for the long wait. I'm posting this because I want you all to know that I haven't abandoned it and once I have a little more time, I'm going to get back to it because I want to make sure I go with the right storyline and right now, I'm not sure what that is.

But I have posted some new stories like some twilight fanfic, some i had anyway etc. Try them by going to my profile ;D

Hope you like the new stuff and keep a look out because I'm likely to have some more time on my hands in a few weeks. Keep the reviews coming :D

Lots of Love,

Miss Davenport.

x


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